


Winter In Their Cry

by Lantean_Drift



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Protective Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 03:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16716020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lantean_Drift/pseuds/Lantean_Drift
Summary: Merlin falls foul of a visiting nobleman and Arthur is not pleased.





	Winter In Their Cry

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted on LJ years ago and was written while the show was still airing.

Winter had fallen over the land, the wild birds had flown, the beasts with sense had taken to their winter sleep and the villagers had taken to huddling together in corners, cloaks wrapped tightly around them. The earth was still and silent with heavy frost, the lake solid with ice; and clouds that promised a good covering of snow drifted, pregnant, overhead. 

Inside the castle, fires burned heartily in every fireplace, popping and crackling merrily as they consumed great wooden logs. The heat they spewed was meagre compared to the rushing ice of winter drafts but it was welcome, nonetheless. In the evenings the men and women of the court congregated in the great hall and shared company, mead and the heat of the grandest fireplace. 

Arthur sat surrounded by others but completely alone. His scowl and sharp countenance was enough to warn away anyone who attempted to approach him. His chair was facing the fire and he watched the flames with a devoted intensity, his thumb propping his chin, his knuckles pressed with punishing force to his lips, silent and stiff with anger. Weary with pain. The red gold flickering of the fire did little to hide the paleness of his skin and the tiredness in his eyes. 

Merlin watched with unhidden concern as one of the young ladies of the court approached Arthur and was turned away with a barely civil word. She was the third this evening – and Arthur’s ‘friends’ had fared even worse. Merlin had tried not to be amused by that, for Arthur was obviously in pain, but inwardly he had rejoiced when Arthur had snapped at the arrogant idiots with whom he’d once regularly kept company.

He had returned to Arthur’s rooms and stoked the fire, done his best to get the room warm for when Arthur retired. Gaius had lectured Merlin about the necessity of keeping Arthur warm and comfortable while he recovered; his wounds had been nasty, the ointment used to heal them was pungent and the medicinal draughts would make him weak and tired if he wasn’t careful. Merlin had listened carefully and nodded, making sure he took onboard all Gaius told him. Arthur’s wounds were the result of sorcery - evil sorcery - designed to control his mind and body and do untold damage to Camelot at Arthur’s hand. Arthur had fought it with a strength of mind and body that Merlin had never seen before. He’d broken the Sorceress’s hold on him but the whole affair had taken its toll on him. Arthur may have succeeded in banishing the sorceress and restored well-being to Camelot but he suffered as a price. The physical pain was bad enough but Merlin knew his nights were plagued with nightmares and restlessness that left him shattered and frustrated and far too easily angered. 

Merlin approached him, calm and unhurried and paying no heed to the sniggering of Arthur’s friends as they watched to see how Arthur would humiliate him for daring to speak to him. 

“My lord,” Merlin said quietly, as he crouched beside Arthur’s chair and touched his fingers gently to the back of Arthur’s wrist. 

“Merlin,” Arthur acknowledged, turning his head to look down at him. Merlin offered him a quick, tight smile. 

“Your fire is built, the room as warm as possible. Perhaps it would be best if you retired.” Merlin held his breath, sure that Arthur would snap at him for even suggesting he might know what was best for Arthur. Perhaps, more worryingly though, Arthur actually agreed with him. 

“Yes, very well. Come on then.” He rose wearily to his feet, weariness stiffening each joint. 

Merlin pointedly ignored the way Arthur’s friends were regarding him with malicious resentment and focused on Arthur. 

“Are you okay?” Merlin asked, unashamedly trying to help him to his feet. 

“I’m fine, don’t make a fuss,” Arthur snapped, shaking off Merlin’s help.

“Fine,” Merlin snapped back, stepping away to let him do it himself. Arthur glared at him as he took a step past him and lead both of them out of the Great Hall.

Arthur’s rooms were up a huge flight of stone stairs and it was unnerving to see him move so slowly when he usually took them at great speed and at least two at a time. Merlin hovered just behind him, his hands out of sight but just inches from Arthur’s back, ready to steady him if he faltered. 

“Prince Arthur!” 

Merlin groaned inwardly at the call from Sir Rion, a nobleman visiting from one of Camelot’s few allied kingdoms. He was a pompous, arrogant, arse of a man and was only a few years older than Arthur despite looking more aged than that. He was here for the winter season and had taken to catching Arthur at moments to discuss life at Court and how it compared to the comings and goings of his home. Arthur was bored to death by this and disliked him most intensely. However, he was a guest in Camelot and was therefore treated with patience and respect most of the time. 

Merlin saw Arthur’s shoulders stiffen and quickly drew level with him on the stair. 

“You carry on up, I’ll put him off,” he whispered. 

“I should - ”

“Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow, surely?” Merlin pointed out helpfully. “The castle is quiet tonight, there’s no matter of urgency to attend to – and should there be I will tell you immediately.” 

“Prince Arthur, sire!” Sir Rion shouted again and began to climb the stairs. 

“Very well, tell him I am retiring for the night but I look forward to speaking to him tomorrow,” Arthur said quickly. 

“No problem. Go on ahead, I’ll catch you up.” 

“I’m sure you will,” Arthur said dryly before continuing his less than graceful climb towards his chambers. 

“Sir Rion,” Merlin called, jogging back down the stairs towards him. “Prince Arthur sends his apologies, he is retiring for the night but says he looks forward to speaking to you in the morning.” 

“Prince Arthur, a word!” Rion called at Arthur’s retreating form, ignoring Merlin entirely. 

Merlin did not give in to the temptation to roll his eyes but he did repeat himself with little patience. “Apologies, my Lord. Prince Arthur is going to bed but will happily speak with you tomorrow.” 

Rion threw him a look of complete contempt and started up the stairs again. This time Merlin did roll his eyes. “Prince Arthur does not take visitors in his chambers, perhaps if the matter is urgent I could pass on a message for you.” Merlin skipped ahead and stood on the step above Rion, blocking his way. The Lord stopped and raised his eyes slowly, glaring fitfully at Merlin. 

“The prince and I are friends. He will see me.” 

“I’m sorry, my Lord, but he left express orders to the contrary, he won’t see anyone until the morning,” Merlin said, practicing all the tricks that he’d learnt about sounding polite while dealing with an insufferable ass. 

“Oh for goodness sake, this is ridiculous. I wish to see Prince Arthur.” 

“Yes sir, and he is willing to see you first thing tomorrow.” 

“I am on a ride tomorrow with some of the men of the court - a morning meeting is not convenient.” 

“Nor is a meeting now.” Merlin argued. “Goodnight, Lord Rion.” 

“How dare you? I am a visitor to this kingdom - ”

“I realise that, but Arthur is prince of this kingdom and he doesn’t want to see anyone until tomor -.” Merlin was cut off by a viciously sharp smack in the face as Rion back-handed him, the heavy jewel ring he wore caught Merlin’s lip and the taste of blood quickly flooded his mouth. Merlin was too stunned by the sudden outburst to do much more than press his hand to his lip to staunch the trickle of blood. 

“You need to learn some manners, boy,” Rion told him, “and when I speak to Arthur tomorrow I shall tell him how displeased I am by your behaviour. Perhaps some time in the stocks will teach you a thing or two.” 

“It hasn’t yet,” Merlin murmured as Rion stalked away down the stairs, “and it’s ‘Prince Arthur’ to you, you great horse’s arse.” Merlin waited until Rion reached the rug at the bottom of the stairs then gave it a tug with a magical flick of his wrist and watched with great satisfaction as Rion stumbled and failed to right himself. Face down on the floor was a good look for him. Especially when there were witnesses. Merlin laughed as the two knights, who happened along as Rion fell, tried to help him back to his feet and he slapped them away in a very undignified manner. 

Merlin made his way along the freezing cold corridor that lead to Arthur’s rooms and, with lack of anything else at hand, he mopped the smear of blood from his lip with the corner of his sleeve. He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, testing how far he could stretch the cut before it started to bleed again. Ouch, not far at all. Bugger it but that was painful. Rion was a bastard of a man. Merlin sighed and carefully pushed open the door to Arthur’s room; the fire was still burning heartily, the candles still flickered and Arthur was sat on his bed, back to the door, staring at the wall. 

“What have I told you about knocking?” Arthur said without any heat. 

“How did you know it was me? I could have been a crazed executioner sneaking in here to take your royal head with my axe.” 

“Merlin, I could hear your step from the top of the stairs. You make more noise than a boar searching for a mate.”

Merlin shrugged. “I do that so you’ll know it’s me.” 

He may have his back to him but Merlin could always tell when Arthur was rolling his eyes. 

Merlin crossed the room and kneeled down next to Arthur’s feet, grabbing his boots and pulling them off. He was aware of Arthur stiffening suddenly, his whole body going rigid and Merlin winced; he knew what was coming. 

“Merlin?”

“Hmm?” He didn’t look up. 

“What’s that?” 

“What’s what?” 

“Merlin!” Arthur took hold of his chin and raised it gently with more care than Merlin expected. Then he ran his thumb over the abused skin and prodded it gently. 

“Ow, don’t do that - ” Merlin pulled back and scowled at Arthur. 

“What happened?” Arthur asked, his voice dangerously low. It was the voice that Merlin associated with a truly angry Arthur.

“Don’t get mad at me,” he said, wounded that Arthur had immediately assumed he’d done something to deserve it. “I didn’t say anything that you didn’t tell me to say.” 

“Rion did this?” 

Something in Arthur’s tone quickly clued Merlin in to what he was really angry about and Merlin realised he’d made a grave error. 

“Arthur, it doesn’t – he was just being his usual obnoxious self – it’s not – where are you going? Arthur?” Merlin grabbed his arm as he reached the door. “What are you doing?”

“It’s time he left the castle,” Arthur said, his eyes fixed on the cut on Merlin’s lip. 

“It’s near midnight, Arthur, you can’t go throwing people into the street at this time of night.” 

“I’m the Crown Prince, I can have him beheaded at this time of night if I choose to. He has outstayed his welcome.” Arthur started for the door again. 

“It would cause a scandal to have a nobleman thrown from the castle – Arthur, listen to me, he was being vile because he could, it’s not important.” 

“It is important,” Arthur barked, turning on him and grabbing his face, his grip softening immediately. “He struck you – I can see the mark left by that hideous ring he wears. That is not how we do things here in Camelot.” 

“It’s not how you do things, maybe, but this is not the first time a nobleman’s fist has been quicker than his mind, Arthur. Don’t make things worse,” Merlin said quietly, oh so aware of Arthur’s hand still pressed to his face. 

“Worse?” 

“Yes, it could make life more difficult for a lot of the servants if he feels he’s been undermined and needs to exert his authority over them.” 

“Well, if I attach an anvil to his boots and throw him into the moat right now he won’t have the chance to, will he?” Arthur asked, finally dropping his hand.

“Look, I’m not any happier about this than you are – less so, considering I’m the one who got smacked by that great horse’s arse – but you can’t do this, Arthur, it’s not a proportionate response.” 

“I don’t like it,” Arthur said quietly, looking out past Merlin’s shoulder. 

“Nor do I,” Merlin said, agreeing but not stirring Arthur any further. 

Arthur sighed and raked his hand tiredly through his hair. “I suppose you are just a servant, after all,” Arthur said with a hint of a grin on his face. 

“That’s the spirit.” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Now, you’d better lie down before you fall over.” 

“I’m not exactly about to keel over onto the rug,” Arthur sneered.

“Yes you are, come on,” Merlin took his arm gently and led his prince over to sit on the edge of the bed. Arthur made to unlace his breeches but Merlin stopped him. 

“Just take your shirt off. I have to bathe the cuts on your back.” 

“They’re fine,” Arthur argued, half-heartedly. 

“You know Gaius said they had to be done before bed for at least seven nights, which means tonight as well.” 

“They’re fine, this fuss is unnecessary.” 

“It’s not unnecessary at all, you prat, and we’re doing this before you go to bed. Now take your shirt off and lie down.” 

“Did I miss something today?” Arthur spluttered, tiredly indignant. “Did my father pass away and leave you the kingdom while I was taking a nap? Did you take advantage of my weakened state and usurp me?” 

Merlin blinked at him. “Well, someone’s obviously feeling a bit better this evening. Drink this,” he said, kneeling in front of him and handing Arthur the potion Gaius had prescribed for him. “It’ll ease the ache, help you sleep.” 

“How do I know you’re not trying to poison me and take my crown from my cold, dead fingers?” 

“That’s not in the slightest bit funny,” Merlin remarked haughtily. “Drink,” he ordered, covering Arthur’s hand with his own and lifting the small bottle to Arthur’s mouth. 

Arthur drank. “If I wake up tomorrow and you’re wearing my crown I’m going to be horribly annoyed with you.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Merlin grinned. “Are you feeling all right, Arthur?”

“Quite well, for the most part, why?” Arthur answered, looking puzzled. 

“No reason. You seem less troubled than you have in days, I suppose.” Merlin smiled quickly and took the potion bottle back, setting it carefully on the side. “If I’d known that all it would take is me getting a slap from that idiot, I’d have annoyed Sir Rion days ago.” 

Arthur visibly stiffened but his hand reached out and traced the bruise forming across Merlin’s lip. Merlin wasn’t sure whether he was warmed or terrified by the look in Arthur’s eyes, he could see the echoes of the nightmares Arthur had vehemently denied but Merlin knew he’d suffered over the last few nights. Of the fear that he still lived with throughout the daylight hours, the strength he’d had to fight the sorceress’s hold and remain relatively intact. His eyes also spoke of the differences the two of them had overcome to become who they were. They spoke of the closeness between them, the unlikely friendship they’d found in each other. Of all the pressures that Arthur carried on a daily basis and the lightness that he only ever shared with Merlin, only ever found in Merlin. For all his idiotic tendencies and pratliness, Merlin knew that Arthur was a good man and he could see in his eyes, at that moment, that Arthur cared about him more deeply than he would ever admit. He could also see that his joke had fallen flat and that, if he wasn’t careful, Arthur’s momentary light-heartedness would disappear. 

“That was a stupid thing to say, I’m sorry,” Merlin murmured, holding Arthur’s gaze and, after a moment of seriousness, letting his face dissolve into a grin. 

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Arthur sniffed, letting him go. 

“Precisely, sire. Lift your arms.” Merlin stood up, grasping Arthur’s shirt and pulling it over his head. The cloth was warm and soft in his hand, still suffused with Arthur’s heat and life; Merlin closed his fist tightly into the cloth. When he looked up Arthur was staring at him, affection unhidden in his eyes. 

“You should lie down, sire.” Merlin closed his hand over Arthur’s shoulder and guided him down onto his stomach in the middle of the bed. Arthur sighed but turned his head towards Merlin and closed his eyes, waiting. 

Merlin washed his hands in the bowl next to the bed before he gathered up the other bowl of clean water, the bottle containing the ointment and a cloth and moved to sit next to Arthur. 

“Is that a new bruise?” he asked, spying the fresh pink and purple smudge just below Arthur’s ribs. 

“I wouldn’t have thought so,” Arthur tried for casual. 

“It is! That wasn’t there last night. What have you been doing?” 

“Nothing, I was out on the practice field and - ”

“Arthur! You know what Gaius said.” 

“Yes, I do, I remember, but I have duties that I cannot neglect, Merlin.”

“It’s not neglect if you’re healing,” Merlin muttered, knowing this was a battle he could not win. 

“Look, I have to - ”

“No, it’s fine, I get it. Hush, let me see to your back,” Merlin quietened him, rolling his eyes - if Arthur got started, he’d have to sit through the whole ‘my duties as Crown Prince’ speech again.

“Did you just hush me?” Arthur said, rolling over and thwarting Merlin’s attempt to fulfil his own duties. “Seriously, did you just hush me?” 

“Arthur - ”

“I should have you put in the stocks. I just can’t comprehend how utterly woeful a servant you are. You can’t hush me or order me around. I don’t know why I put up with it. I don’t think anybody has hushed me before, ever.” 

“Then it was about time someone did, don’t you think?” Merlin asked with a grin. 

“When I speak, you should be listening with rapt attention, not hushing me. I don’t understand myself, it was anybody else I wouldn’t stand it,” he said, sounding quite like he was torn between annoyance and confusion. 

“Arthur,” Merlin said gently. 

“No,” Arthur cut him off, suddenly furious, “no, you don’t get to speak softly to me, Merlin. You don’t get to use secretive tones that sound like closeness but for the warning in my head that tells me that people lie and use and betray me and that you are no different.” 

Merlin stood up as the world tilted at a strange angle and his heart seemed determined to stop beating and race wildly in equal measures. How had this all gone to hell so quickly? One moment he was preparing to treat Arthur’s back, indulging in the mutual teasing that he had thought spoke of their closeness. The next, Arthur was calling him a liar, accusing him of using that closeness against him. The pain was horrible and sharp and felt like blood, thick and hot in his throat. He had lied to Arthur, lied to him everyday since he arrived in Camelot; a lie that Arthur would also count as betrayal. His cowardliness would now cost him Arthur’s friendship but it was Arthur’s sharp words that were making his head spin. 

And that you are no different. 

He wasn’t, he wasn’t any different. Merlin’s feet felt heavy and uncooperative as he tried to head for the door, just needing to get out, needing to think about what he should do next. 

“Merlin.” Arthur was up, off the bed and reaching for him. His bare feet moved silently over the cold stone floor. “Merlin, I didn’t mean that, I swear, I don’t now where that came from – you have to understand that - ”

“You’re right,” Merlin said, feeling a stifling dread fill his chest. “I have lied to you and now I have no idea how to fix what I’ve done.” He couldn’t even look at Arthur, couldn’t look at his face, or his hands where they gripped Merlin’s shoulders. 

“That’s not funny,” Arthur said, warningly. 

“I’m not joking,” Merlin said miserably. “The secret I’ve kept from you, the lies I’ve told you, time and time again, will anger you and hurt you and it will cost me my life and put yours in danger.” 

“Stop it, it’s not amusing.” 

“I’m serious. If I told you this secret and you divulged it, I would be executed; if you kept it, you would be in danger from inside Camelot and out.” 

“You’re being ridiculous, Merlin, you’re not making sense – how would I be in danger within my own Castle?” 

“Arthur - ”

“Tell me this secret and we shall see.” 

“You will not forgive me,” Merlin said, closing his eyes, unable to look upon the entire world. 

“Tell me.” Arthur’s hands tightened furiously on his shoulders. Merlin winced. 

“Right. Fine. I will, but first you should know this,” Merlin babbled. 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, warning him quietly. 

“No, no, you should know this – that I would have served you gladly for the rest of my life, I would have stood beside you and watched you become a great king and I would have worked every day to ensure that the prat didn’t overwhelm the good man in you. Don’t let that happen, Arthur, you are destined for great things, I beg you to achieve them,” Merlin pleaded, finally meeting his eyes and holding them for a second.

“You have said something similar to me before,” Arthur said shrewdly. “Then I was fool enough to let you leave, this time I won’t be. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I,” Merlin straightened his shoulders underneath Arthur’s touch and raised his head so they were face to face. “I am a sorcerer. I use magic, I am magic. I feel every element of this world living within my blood; I can feel the Earth breathing below my feet and against my skin. My mind understands the bonds that knit the ground and the sky and all living things together and with a word or a touch or a movement I can control them, manipulate them and create things that would otherwise be impossible.”

Merlin waited for some kind of reaction, the explosive anger, the cold contempt, the denial or disbelief – just something, anything. Arthur just stared at him for an eternity and then blinked. 

“Fuck,” Arthur finally swore quietly. 

Merlin laughed, but it may have been borderline hysterical. “I know.” 

“Fuck,” Arthur said again. “Fuck, Merlin. Fuck. How are you even still alive?” 

“Well, it turns out I’m actually a pretty good liar, after all.” 

“You lied well about being a bad liar?” 

“Yes.” 

“Fuck!” 

“You said that already.” 

“Well, it bears saying again,” Arthur shouted before falling very quiet, very still. 

“Have you ever used it to manipulate me?” 

“When we first met and you tried to beat me to death I magicked certain things in the market place to make it a little harder; since that day I have used magic around you, for you and to protect you, but I have never, and will never, use magic to manipulate you. You have to understand, Arthur, regardless of how you see me, I see you as my friend; I would not want anything from you that you would not willingly give.”

Arthur stepped back, nodding slightly. “I understand. I just need to -” he moved over to the window and stared out like he could see something other than the solid black smear of the night sky through the glass. “Fuck.” 

“If these are to be the last words I hear from you, you could at least try to vary them a little,” Merlin said, trying for levity, but still so uncertain as to where he stood. 

“Give me a second to think, Merlin, for pity’s sake.” 

“Should I go?” 

“No. Not yet. Just…be quiet.” 

Arthur sounded so tired and he looked so miserable, shoulders visibly tensed as the shivers he refused to acknowledge rippled across his bruised back, his bare feet were pressed to the stone floor. Merlin felt his heart go heavy; Arthur must be freezing, yet the problems that Merlin had caused were all that were on his mind. For all his brashness and tough exterior, Arthur really hated to be cold.

Merlin found the long jacket of furs that Arthur never wore outside his rooms because he swore he hated it, but Merlin saw him in it often enough to know that he loved the warmth of it. As silently as he managed to do anything, he took it over to the window and slid Arthur into it, one arm at a time. He moved round in front of his prince to ensure that it was fastened tight enough to ward off the chill. “Don’t want you to freeze, sire,” he all but whispered. 

Arthur’s hand found its way to his shoulder, gripping tightly, working it beneath strong, calloused fingers. “Last words you hear from me?” 

“Well, you know, execution’s pretty final.” 

“I would not, for all of Albion, have you executed,” Arthur said furiously.

“I am a sorcerer, if your father finds out, I will be killed. If he finds out that you knew and didn’t mention it to him, I will be tortured first to ensure that I don’t have you under some spell. Your father hates magic, hates those who wield it and hates those who harbour us. His fear – and his fear for you - would drive him to more terrible things than we’ve seen from him in our lifetime.” 

“I would not allow him to harm you.” 

“It’s not me I am worried about, if worse came worst, I could magic myself away – at least I think I could, I could try, it might work. You, however, you would still be here at his mercy.” 

“My father would not have me executed,” Arthur said, his lip curling in disgust at the very suggestion. 

“Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t, but the old tests to determine whether a person has been ensorcelled are cruel and cause much harm. I would not see you come to harm.”

“Then what would you suggest?” 

“I would suggest that you never find out for both our sakes, but seeing as that didn’t exactly work as a plan – I don’t know. I don’t know what to suggest we do.”

“You could leave,” Arthur said quietly, the suggestion obviously costing him a great deal of self-control. 

“I won’t,” Merlin answered quickly. 

“What if I order you to, what if I want you to go?” Arthur said, his expression cruel and calculating but Merlin could see right through it to the fear and desperation that he hid so well from everyone else. 

“I won’t leave here, have you noticed how many people try to kill you on a monthly basis? I won’t leave you to them, Arthur, I won’t leave you. I am destined to walk beside you, to keep you safe.” 

“You are to keep me safe? How?” Arthur asked, with obvious disbelief.

“By whatever means I can. Arthur, this is right, you know it is – you said it yourself this evening. You don’t understand, why but you let me in, you let me closer to you than anyone else – because instinctively you know that you can, that I can be - ” Merlin stopped suddenly. 

Arthur looked at him, his knowing gaze cutting right through him. “Can be what, Merlin, can be trusted?”

“Yes.” 

“You lied to me,” Arthur pointed out carefully. 

“To keep you safe, to keep me here, where I’m supposed to be. That lie is no longer between us and you can trust me, I promise you, Arthur,” he practically begged, desperate for Arthur to believe him and accept what he was saying. 

“God help me, Merlin, but I do,” Arthur said on a sigh, he paused and cocked an eyebrow at him. “Your name is really Merlin, isn’t it?” he asked. 

“Yes.” Merlin grinned and rolled his eyes. 

“And that woman in Ealdor must really be your mother, seeing as you do not have enough riches to pay anyone well enough to pretend to be your family.” 

“You are hilarious, your highness,” Merlin said, pushing against Arthur to make him stumble. Arthur swung out in retaliation but Merlin was expecting it and grabbed Arthur’s fist and dodged skilfully underneath his arm and used the momentum to swing Arthur into the middle of the room.

“How dare you - ” Arthur spluttered and caught Merlin, wedging his shoulder into Merlin’s solar plexus and driving him back into the bed. Merlin kicked out, catching Arthur on his shin and making him howl. “You have your boots on still, you great oaf.” 

His balance was compromised and Arthur landed on top of Merlin, there was a mad scramble as Merlin tried to roll them and Arthur tried to get the upper hand. They succeeded only in getting hopelessly tangled in one another. Arthur tried to pin Merlin’s wrists above his head but he was able to wiggle a hand free and get hold of a fine goose feather pillow, which he used to smack Arthur in the head. Arthur made a grab for it as Merlin cackled with laughter and when Arthur managed to get hold of it, he used it to suffocate the hysterics right out of him. Merlin kept managing to push him away long enough to gasp for breath and insult the Crown Prince before they both collapsed on the bed, laughter and limbs tangled together. 

Merlin gradually became aware of how long it was taking Arthur to catch his breath. They’d had wrestling bouts ten times more energetic and twice as long as that before now and Arthur had barely broken a sweat. He was still weak from the latest attempt on his life, however, and Merlin grew concerned. 

“Are you all right?” he asked, his face turned to Arthur’s where they were lying on the bed. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re pretty breathless still, you were meant to be taking it easy.” 

“I had far worse out on the practice field today, Merlin, don’t be such an old woman,” Arthur chided, not looking down from the ceiling. 

Merlin shook his head. “I was merely concerned for my Prince’s health.” 

“Oh, don’t do that wounded maid face, it’s so unappealing.” 

“I’m an old woman and a maid, how, pray tell, did I manage that?” 

“As only you could. Either way you’re being a girl.”

“And you’re being a prat,” Merlin said with ease. “Sit up, I’ll take your furs and see to your back. It’s late, time for all good princes to be in bed.” 

“You are so infuriating,” Arthur sighed but sat up. 

Merlin slid the fur jacket from Arthur’s shoulders, his fingers brushing skin warmed by exertion as he did so. Arthur’s eyes met his as Merlin pushed the long furs out of the way and trailed his hand back along Arthur’s shoulder.

“You,” he coughed and scrambled over to the side of the bed to grab the things he needed to soothe Arthur’s back. “You seem to be healing well.” 

Arthur grunted what sounded like an affirmative and settled face down on the bed for the second time that evening. 

Merlin soaked the cloth in the cool, clean water and began to gently wash the remaining welts of magical injury on Arthur’s back. They were mostly gone now, just angry red stripes across his shoulders and back, whereas before they had been purple and stained crimson with the blood Merlin had tried to staunch with his own hands. 

Merlin traced the path of each one with gentle, determined, care. They were healing well, it was true – despite the damn idiot going out on the practice field that day. Without thinking, Merlin leaned down and ghosted a breath of magic across Arthur’s skin, watching him twitch slightly before settling back into a visibly more relaxed state. 

“I felt that,” Arthur mumbled into his pillow. “It felt good. Warm.” 

Merlin just smiled and began to work the ointment into the skin with his fingertips. Arthur groaned slightly as it eased the tightness of healing skin. His breathing slowly evened out and Merlin was pretty sure he’d be asleep soon. 

“Why did you start using magic?” 

Not soon enough, however. 

“I was born with it, I never started, exactly, it’s just always been a part of who I am.” 

“I’ve never heard of that before.” 

Merlin shrugged, feeling more than a little self-conscious about his apparent freakishness. “I haven’t either.” 

“How powerful are you?”

Merlin thought of Nimueh and the ease with which he created the storm and directed it to take her life. And then he thought of the hours he’d practiced to reveal a snake or two in a shield. “On an elemental level; very. I think. Some stuff needs refining, but the power within me is pretty intense.” 

“Gaius is helping you? To control it - use it, I mean?” Arthur asked, without malice - more concern, if anything. For a moment Merlin could do nothing more than pause his ministrations to press his hand to Arthur’s cooling skin; so grateful to him for that brief moment of worry on his behalf. 

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, turning his face so that he could pin him with a glare. 

Merlin nodded quickly. “He does what he can, but I think if he truly knew what I was capable of, then - ” 

“What?” Arthur pressed, sitting up and turning himself to face Merlin. “Then, what?”

Merlin could only pray that his eyes didn’t show just how troubled he was. “Then he’d fear me too,” he answered very quietly. 

“Who else knows?” 

“My mother, obviously. Will knew, but he’s dead now. That crazy physician – Muirden - he realised, but he’s gone too. Nobody else” Merlin answered, trying to contain the well of fear that was beginning to choke him. 

“And does your mother fear you?” Arthur asked, grabbing Merlin as he moved to put the bowl and cloth back on the table and pulling him back to sit on the bed, empty handed. “Does she?” 

“No.” 

“Then who does?” 

“I do,” Merlin admitted quietly. 

“You’re scared of yourself?” Arthur asked, not mocking the way Merlin would have expected him to. Strangely, it made the admission so much easier. 

“Terrified.” 

“Why?” Arthur’s hand slid to the back of Merlin’s neck and his fingertips rubbed soothingly backwards and forwards across the nape. Merlin leaned shamelessly into the touch, indulging himself in a way he had never allowed before. 

“I’m a freak of nature,” he said, laughing with self-deprecating bitterness. “I have no idea why I’m like this or how I am what I am. I don’t know what I’m capable of. The magic beings I have met claim that I am ‘of the Old Religion’ and I’m not even sure if I know what that means. I’ve commanded a storm and taken a life. I held the balance of the world in the palm of my hand that day, the day I had power over life and death and I killed a sorceress. I don’t know what I am, Arthur, nobody does and it scares the shit out of me.” 

Arthur’s hand moved to his hair and Merlin was embarrassingly aware that he was being shushed and pulled in to rest his head against Arthur’s shoulder. “We will work it out,” Arthur said quietly. 

“I killed a woman, Arthur.” 

“To save the ones you love.” 

“How could you know that – how do you know it wasn’t out of malice or jealousy or lack of control?” Merlin asked furiously. 

“Because I know you, you idiot. I bet I can guess when it was as well – the Questing Beast, Hunith’s illness, Gaius looking near death, those things were too closely packed together; they had to be linked. You came to say goodbye to me when I was healing, I realise that much now, at least. You came to say goodbye because you’d traded your life for mine. I understand that it all went horribly pear-shaped, but there’ll be no more of that; I promise you if you do it again, I will kill you myself.”

Merlin pulled back, blinking at Arthur. “Apparently, in some ways, you’re not as daft as you look.” 

Arthur flicked his ear. Hard. 

Merlin covered his ears quickly and elbowed Arthur in the chest. Then he took his hands off his ears and stated very seriously, “it is my destiny to protect you in any way I can, I’m certain of it.” 

“And I’m certain that to do that, you have to live. I won’t have it any other way.” 

“Arthur - ”

“No. That’s the end of it.” 

“God, you’re a prat.” 

“Shut up, serf.”

“You’re such an arse.” 

“You can’t say that!” 

“Fine,” Merlin sulked. “How’s your back?” he asked a second later. 

“It feels fine, better than it has for days.” 

“Good,” Merlin leaned in, looking at the welts, just to check that Arthur wasn’t trying to be manly or anything, but they looked fine. However, Arthur was dimpled with goose bumps from the cold so Merlin grinned and stoked the fire back to full life with a carefully whispered word. 

Arthur grinned at him. “Very clever. You mustn’t get caught though; we’ll have to work on that. It’s especially telling when your eyes glow gold,” Arthur pointed out, helpfully. 

Merlin winced. 

“We’re alike, you and I.” Arthur said in his ‘listen now, I’m imparting real wisdom’ voice, which, to his credit, he only used when he actually was - for the most part, anyway. He stood up and took to pacing across the floor. “We spend our lives hiding the person we really are from the people who would seek to harm us. If it truly is destiny that steers us, then it’s no wonder we’re in this together.” 

“Fuck me, Arthur. That was almost profound,” Merlin laughed, unable to help himself. 

“You’re such a bastard!” Arthur sighed, then pounced and knocked Merlin back, flat on the bed, restraining him with his practiced ability and natural strength. “I am your Prince,” he growled, not hiding the laughter in his eyes, “you will show me proper deference.” 

Merlin looked up, and held Arthur’s gaze steadily. “Yes. Sire.”

Arthur swallowed. “Merlin,” he whispered, and if his voice was strangled and slightly desperate, neither of them mentioned it. 

“Yes, Arthur?” 

Arthur lowered himself down, their chests meeting and pressing together, their legs falling along side one another. Arthur slid one hand underneath Merlin’s shoulder and held his weight on the other elbow where it rested next to Merlin’s head. “I want - ”

“Yes?” Merlin asked, wrapping his arms around Arthur to hold him close. 

“I want…I can’t,” Arthur choked, looking so stricken that Merlin took his face in the warm palm of his hand and pulled it down so that he could kiss Arthur’s eyes.

“When we are together, Arthur, we are exactly who we are and we don’t belong to anyone or anything else. You can have what you want.” 

Merlin waited, his hands stroked through Arthur’s hair, letting him know how much he was wanted, how much he was treasured and it was almost violent when Arthur swooped down and claimed Merlin’s mouth. Merlin smiled into the kiss, giving back as good as he got as he wrapped his legs around Arthur’s waist and pulled him in so he could also feel how much he was desired. 

“G’nah! Merlin,” Arthur growled and thrust against him, his kisses growing impossibly hungrier. 

Merlin ran his hands over every available inch of the already exposed skin of Arthur’s sides and onto his back, mindful of the welts that still lingered.

“I’m not going to break,” Arthur snapped. 

“And I’m not going to hurt you,” Merlin retorted. “Come here.” He grabbed a handful of Arthur’s hair and pulled him into another kiss. 

“You have too many clothes on,” Arthur complained, pulling back to yank Merlin’s shirt off over his head, creating the most magnificent display of disarrayed hair. Arthur laughed with uncharacteristically open joy as he ran his hands through it and tried to flatten it back down. His caress brought his hand down Merlin’s neck, making him groan and Arthur quickly found a new incentive to suck sloppily under Merlin’s ear. His tongue found a particularly sensitive spot and Merlin couldn’t help it when bucked wildly; Arthur’s hand pushed onto his chest, pressing him back down and grazing a nipple at the same time. Merlin’s groan got trapped in his throat and turned into a growl and Arthur obviously decided that that was the best sound ever made because he rubbed his hand down Merlin’s chest, again and again. The friction of skin on skin creating a heat that was almost painful in its pleasure. 

“Arthur,” Merlin choked and dug his heels into the back of Arthur’s legs, urging him harder against him.

“Is the door locked?” Arthur asked between heavy breaths. 

Merlin cocked his head to one side and Arthur heard the reassuring snick of metal turning, “it is now.”

“Good,” Arthur ducked his head and caught one of Merlin’s nipples between his teeth, working it with his tongue and making Merlin swear at him. 

Arthur lifted his head and grinned wickedly. “You have a filthy mouth.”

Merlin could feel the heavy heat of Arthur’s hardness pushing against his own as they clumsily tried to touch every inch of each other. He felt a fire burning low within him, a need so fierce it was overwhelming, it was all-consuming and he revelled in it. Letting the fire dance through his blood and out of his fingertips, he used it to scorch his touch into Arthur’s skin and felt the heat surround them, thick and cloying and so alive. Arthur was panting his name, over and over like a mantra, and Merlin only broke his rhythm for a second when he realised it was because his hand was rubbing over Arthur’s erection, ripping the noise from his lips with a touch. Merlin broke his stride to grab Arthur’s head with both hands. Arthur made a remarkably unprince-like noise, the sort of keening one would associate with a wounded, distressed animal but he soon got behind the kissing and returned it with enthusiasm. 

Merlin flipped them over suddenly, landing Arthur neatly below him, giving himself the opportunity to look down at his prince as he thrust against him and begged him with his hands. 

“Get these off,” Arthur demanded, pulling at the laces on Merlin’s breeches. Merlin’s hands flew down and had them unlaced and lying on the floor in a heap while Arthur was still fumbling with his. 

“I’ll do it,” Merlin said, batting his hands away impatiently, “I’ve probably had more practice anyway.” Before Arthur had time to comment, Merlin slid down the bed and attacked the laces with his teeth. 

“Well, you’ve never done it like that before,” Arthur said, only stuttering a little. 

Merlin let his face brush against the head of Arthur’s cock where it strained against the material that kept them apart. Arthur flung his head back against the pillow and very noisily tried to get some air into his lungs. 

Merlin stripped away the breeches and threw them the way of his own. He lowered his head, letting his lips trail very lightly down one side of Arthur’s shaft and his mouth ached to taste. “You are very beautiful, your highness,” he murmured as he pressed kisses to the base of Arthur’s cock. 

“Arthur,” Arthur gasped, “if you mean any of what you say when it’s just us,” his hand gripped Merlin’s head and tilted it up to look at him, “then only call me Arthur. Please, god, please, Merlin.” 

Merlin had never seen Arthur so raw, so completely undone, his eyes were wild and shining and his body was feverish with his intensity and desire. Merlin surged up and pressed a succession of desperate kisses against his mouth. “You are so beautiful, Arthur. My Arthur.”

“Merlin.” Arthur lifted his legs, wrapping them around Merlin, cradling his body in his own as he began to thrust, bringing their hardness together, again and again, with shocks of heady pleasure. 

Merlin lifted his shoulders slightly and slid his hand in between them, lower and lower until he could grab hold of their erections and pull them together in the grip of his hand. Arthur’s body seemed to coil with near-release and he scrabbled to bring Merlin down against him over and over again, his head flung back, his mouth open as he panted and cried out a desperate staccato. Merlin kissed his neck, under his chin, across his shoulders, as his own body tightened and he was pushed closer and closer to the brink. 

Arthur thrust once, twice more and came, hot and fast in Merlin’s hand and all over his cock and Merlin followed him with a shout, diving for Arthur’s already open mouth, not caring that he practically missed, not caring that it was the wettest, filthiest kiss he’d ever indulged in. He just tried to climb inside of Arthur as he came all over him. 

Arthur was the one that slowed and sweetened the kiss so that when Merlin came back to himself enough to realise he wasn’t actually dead, he was lying face to face with Arthur, a warm hand travelling up and down the length of his side and soft kisses being pressed to his lips over and over. 

“Fuck,” Merlin said when he’d caught his breath enough to speak. 

“That’s what I was going to say,” Arthur murmured, pressing their foreheads together.   
Merlin shamelessly took the opportunity to just breathe Arthur in. 

“If we don’t move under the covers, we’re going to freeze,” Arthur whispered, pushing another kiss to Merlin’s mouth. 

“Mmmhm,” Merlin answered, wriggling instinctively closer to Arthur to leech his body heat. 

Arthur laughed and pushed him back slightly. “Come on, move. Under the covers.” 

Merlin moaned and grumbled but did as he was bid. “I’m exhausted,” he said, unable to keep his eyes open. 

“Then sleep,” Arthur whispered. 

“I need - ” Merlin stopped. 

“What do you need?” 

Merlin didn’t answer, just turned away from Arthur then reached behind him and pulled him tight against his back, moving Arthur’s arm to wrap around him and cradling his hand right against his own heart. “This is what I need.”

“Then it is what you’ll always have,” Arthur answered and pressed a kiss to the back of Merlin’s neck. “Now, sleep.” 

~*~

Merlin woke once in the night, murmuring objections when he realised it was because Arthur was climbing out of bed. 

“Arthur?” 

“Hush, mine. Go back to sleep. I’ll be right back.” 

Arthur’s words filled his chest with a warmth that felt dangerous and undeniably wonderful as Merlin closed his eyes and let slumber retake him. 

~*~

When he woke in the morning it wasn’t even light and Arthur was once again pressed against his back, his soft breath murmuring through Merlin’s hair.

Merlin’s hand was freezing from where it was lying on the pillow, exposed to the cold night air and he pulled it under the cover to warm it and pushed back into Arthur’s heat behind him, loving the solid feel of him against his back. 

Arthur grumbled something unintelligible and then sighed, “go back to sleep, Merlin, it’s not morning yet.” 

Merlin huffed a small laugh and rolled his eyes. “It is. And I have to get cleaned up before anyone sees me going about my duties looking like I got well and truly shagged last night.” 

“Mmm, you did get well and truly shagged last night,” Arthur said sleepily. 

“Yes, but the entire castle does not need to know that.” Merlin rolled over and kissed Arthur gently on the lips. “Good morning, my Arthur.” 

The look in Arthur’s eyes chased away any doubts Merlin had about addressing Arthur so. “Good morning,” Arthur whispered in return, a goofy and unprince-like grin sliding over his face. 

Merlin smiled in return and kissed him. 

~*~

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” Merlin said once he was dressed and ready to leave. He leaned over and pressed a kiss into Arthur’s hair before heading for the door. 

“Merlin,” Arthur called over to him. “I’ll want my breakfast an hour later this morning but I will require your services before then.” 

“Yes sire,” Merlin said, smile firmly fixed in place as he pulled the door open and slipped quietly into the familiar halls of Camelot. 

~*~

A few hours later when Merlin had set the breakfast tray on the table, Arthur had locked the door and they had spent the first few long minutes relearning the taste of each other, Merlin looked at Arthur and cocked his head slightly. 

“What?” Arthur asked, taking an apple from the tray and biting into it like he was starving. 

“I heard something interesting in the kitchen this morning,” Merlin answered. 

“You know better than to listen to the prattling tales of the scullery maids, Merlin,” Arthur said, clearly going for ‘casual’ and hitting the ‘shifty’ mark by mistake.

“Actually, it was the chamber maids talking and they’re the best source for gossip, they always get it right. They were saying that Sir Rion left this morning.” 

“Oh, did he?” 

“Yes, apparently he saw something in the night – something so completely terrifying he refused to stay in Camelot another moment.”

“Really?” Arthur asked, looking entirely too much like he was enjoying this. “Did he say what it was?” 

“No, too terrified to even speak, the poor man.” 

“Oh yes, yes. You’re right, of course, poor, poor man. Whatever it was must have been a fearsome spectre to cause him to flee like that. Perhaps we should check out his rooms to make sure he’s gone. I mean, make sure that whatever it was, is gone.” 

Merlin nodded, eyes wide and innocent as he said, “So, where did you get off to in the middle of the night?” 

“Me?” Arthur grinned. “Nowhere really, just went to see a man about a ghost.” 

Merlin laughed and Arthur gave in, laughing too with an openness that Merlin vowed to bring out in him as often as possible. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Arthur, it was cruel.”

“He was cruel,” Arthur said, catching Merlin around the waist and pulling them tightly together, “and he was an oaf and he’d outstayed his welcome.” 

“My hero.” Merlin fluttered his eyelashes as he grinned at Arthur. 

“Shut up, you idiot, and don’t do that, you’re worryingly good at it,” Arthur murmured as he pressed a kiss to the corner of Merlin’s mouth and with just a ghost of a whispered, “mine.”

Merlin nodded and slid his hands into Arthur’s hair and returned the kiss. “Mine,” he said in return, claiming Arthur’s mouth sweetly. 

Arthur smiled and deepened the kiss. 

.xx.


End file.
